My Life as a Footnote
by fly-away-free
Summary: In telling the story of my life, there is one thing you have to understand. I was a footnote in my parent’s life. The unwanted child, crammed into the last sentence of the newspaper article, name misspelled.' HGHP


In telling the story of my life, there is one thing you have to understand. I was a footnote in my parent's life. The unwanted child, crammed into the last sentence of the newspaper article, the girl in the background of the picture, sitting on the stairs. Always put aside, my name misspelled or mispronounced, like the cat left on the doorstep, that nobody wants. Having no one to soften the blow of the wind with a warm blanket.

Like the cat, I had no one. No place to truly call my own. Nobody to talk to when I was angry, nobody to cry with when I was sad. The only time I went to my mother with a problem was when I was younger. I knew less then. The printer was jammed on the computer. She was busy listening to Nicole play piano, with her face aglow and her eyes closed, as if sight would interfere with the beauty of the music she seemed to drink in the tune of, like an alcoholic would drown a bottle of liquor.

I told her of the problem with the computer, and she waved me away, vaguely saying something to the effect of 'go tell your father'. Of course, dad didn't care, so he sent me to mom. Not wishing to displease him, I did. I stopped in the hallway, listening to her praise Nicole like no tomorrow. It was then, standing in the hall, at seven years old, that I realized mom had never praised me like that. Not even when I brought home straight 'outstanding' marks in all subjects. Nicole hadn't.

Mom had glanced over our grades, over my impeccable ones, and Nicole's far less-than-perfect ones, consoling Nicole, saying that at least she wasn't some know-it-all nerd like _some_ people. I cried myself to sleep that night, thinking of all the hard work and extra effort I put in that year, trying to please my mother with the one thing I could do.

I guess that explains my 'academic brilliance' now. I keep thinking that, if I try hard enough, mom will be happy with what I can do, too. But she only scoffs at 'this magic foolishness' that I excel at.

"History of Magic?" She would question, her eyebrows raised, "what is this crap? Who in the hell cares about shit like this?"

I was the accident that ruined my mother's hopes and dreams for her future. She was going to be a star, a muggle celebrity. She didn't need any child, much less such an unnatural one like myself. She had talent, oh yes, undeniably gifted with her voice. Then I came along. She blames me for the loss of what might have been an amazing career.

I am nothing like my sister. Oh, Nicole, the beautiful, the talented. The belle, the shining inspiration, the popular, pretty, perfect child of the family, she could do no harm. _Her _name was never spelt wrong in newspaper articles that detailed family life of the famous dental hygiene researchers, the Grangers. She sometimes had news articles all to herself, for her breathtaking voice and amazing skill at the keyboard. She was dubbed to be the next great youthful talent, the up and rising star of the community, the girl who would someday grace the cover of magazines in supermarkets all across the world. She would do England proud, they said. And I, her sister, would have nothing to do with her fame and fortune. I would be yet another misspelled name in the background.

I think both Nicole and my parents were glad to be rid of me when I got my letter to Hogwarts. I know _I _was glad to be rid of them. My mother would never have to put up with me anymore, I wouldn't have to have Nicole's perfection flaunted in my face, I could start a whole new life somewhere far, far away.

So I did. I used my life at Hogwarts as an escape. I told no one that I had a sister. Nobody guessed that the family I came from wasn't really a family at all. That's why I spent so much time over the holidays at Ron's house. It's funny that he never wondered. To me my family were like the dead, only to be remembered at times where most other people spent with their family.

There was only one person who ever unlocked my history. Only one person who, after much persuasion, got me to talk. And it was like a dam bursting- all my emotions rushing and tumbling out in a flood. And he listened to me. And he understood. He was the only one that could, after all. We could relate. But it wasn't easy. Nothing was ever easy for me, the brilliant, logical, capable witch, Hermione Granger. Possibly the most gifted student Hogwarts had ever seen.

This is my story. I will tell it like I lived it- at times bitter and dark, but always passionate. I will tell you how fiercely I loved and hated and how hidden I kept those feelings. I will tell you the story of my life like I have only told it once before.

Truthfully.


End file.
